Hetalia Chibi Italy Novels & Stories

Right where Vittorio bit me this morning—hard. “You let him mark you?” he said, voice dipped in amusement. “Tsk. That’s not very neutral, bambina.” “It’s a hickey,” I muttered, though it pulsed like a brand. He leaned in. Nose brushing my hair. Lips near the mark. “Nah… this one’s a bite. A proper claim.” I stayed still. My thighs clenched. He chuckled softly. “Looks good on you. Makes me want to put one right beside it.”

"Italy, I moved here when I was a teenager" "Can you teach me to say something" "Okay, repeat after me: sei molto attraente" "Sei molto attraente" she repeated obediently "E non vedo l'ora di metterti a letto" "E non Verdi l'ora di metterti a letto" "What did I just say?" She asked. "Are you sure you want to know." I asked and she nodded eagerly. I grinned before saying "Well, Juliana, you just called me very attractive and admitted that you cannot wait to get me into bed".

The kind of grin that made my knees weaken and my brain forget how to function. "You smell like Matteo." The name sent a shiver down my spine, and I stepped back. "And you are?" He tilted his head, still smiling, but there was something sharp behind his eyes. "Calix, Calix Del Piero." Another Del Piero? My throat went dry. "Let me guess," I muttered. "You're the second alpha?" His grin widened. "So, Matteo already told you about us?" "He told me I'm some kind of shared chew toy between three overgrown dogs."

“He made me sit on his lap for dessert tonight. Fed me the cannoli I made like I was a six-year-old. When I argued I could feed myself he told me he was the boss and I was his topolina.” “What the fuck is a topolina?” “Means little mouse in Italian. Says I remind him of a mouse.” “You do have your gap between your front teeth.” She punched him hard in the shoulder, “not even a bit funny.” “It suits you. You’re tiny like a little mouse.” She sighed loudly, “do you really think I can just fake it until I make it?” “Not the orgasms. Don’t fake those.” “Achilles!” she moaned as she nudged him.

{Tiny thief} What! Did he just call me a tiny thief in Italian? I can't remember stealing from him, I swear I haven't seen his face in all my stay in Italy unless....did I miss his face too? "Don't act lost, ragazza" he yanked me to his face "Where is my fvcking ring?" {Girl}

he sighed. Honestly, when Antonio was thoughtful, I kind of forgot he was a blood thirsty killer who was planning to kill my entire family. “No, just a couple of hairs pulled out,” I advised. “My poor little doll,” Antonio said, still rubbing my hair. Giacomo smirked, “Dio, vorrei essere quella cerniera. Vorrei tirarle i capelli e darle una pacca sul sedere.” (God, I wish I were that zipper. I want to pull her hair and smack that ass.)

Yeah, Talia could see how the hypocrisy could be amusing. “Hold up. You left the office like the devil was nipping at your ass to find Delicioso about your proposal, so… it’s him isn’t it?” Talia took a frustrated sip out of her martini glass and said, “He’s Italian.” “Reigning from the same hot species. Is it him or not?” she shot back. Talia cleared her throat, turned her head away to the side, her left hand rising to rub at her cheek and ear. She jumped when Carrie screamed, quickly turning to face her.

The hand over her mouth was large, calloused, but somehow gentle. She thrashed once, instinct more than thought, but he pressed closer, chest to her back, his breath warm against her ear. “Shhh, principessa,” a low voice murmured, sending shivers down her spine “Scream and you’ll draw every guard in this place. And I promise you… I’m faster than they are.” The accent was unmistakably Italian — rich and undoubtedly dangerous. Not likr the polished American lilt of Alex Valenti. This was darker, hungrier, the kind of voice that commands attention at every single word.

She questions. This is exactly why I did not want to get too close to him. He has other girls, I am no special. “What are their names? Maddison and Elena?” She giggles a little before she continues. “I personally didn't like them and they were not even that pretty but you,” she walks towards me and grabs my face as she begins staring at my feature. I find this sort of awkward. “Sei un capolavoro.” She proclaims. (Italian Translation: You are a masterpiece.)

Dominic’s voice dropped. “They’re running the show. The labs. The chemicals. The whores. They branded this one.” He tapped the photo of the pale girl, the one that had been stuck in his head since the second he saw her. “Said she’s half-Italian. Nineteen. A virgin.” Matteo gave a low chuckle. “She won’t be after you’re done.” Dominic didn’t smile. But his jaw flexed. Romano pulled the folder closer. “Which one’s your pick, boss? You like the little one with the shaved pussy? Or the one with the big tits and the rope marks?”